Resolution
by rumor
Summary: Just to be safe----But Fate, Destiny, God, or whatever you want to place your faith in had other plans; for as a small part of me had always feared, he broke the biggest, most serious promise he ever made me.


Disclaimer:  Not mine, don't sue please.  Despite the beliefs of many of my customers I do NOT have a million dollars to give anyone. (Long story, and get your minds out of the gutter I'm a waitress!)    ;)

Warning:  Deals with a potentially sensitive topic, and I believe I will probably end up throwing in a curse or two, so just a heads up just in case.  I'd give this probably a PG-13. *shrugs*   I don't think anything in here will bother most people in the fandom…I've seen various others like this, but I felt I should warn you all in advance—cover my bases, my *edit*, etc.  ; )

A/N:  Oh my god, I'm actually posting something!  ***Listens to the sound of pigs flying and ice freezing in the depths of hell**.*   Haha!  Ok, I'll try to keep this brief, but I have a bit I wanted to say, and on top of that I have this strange tendency to ramble on and on.  Lol.  

First my apologies.  Sorry if the situation seems bit tired and overused, but I'm using it again.  It's not as polished as I would normally do before posting (I would think), but I needed it over and done.  OOCness for the few of our boys I use, I'm sure, as well as with the way they talk.  I'm not sure, but my tenses probably change, if they do sorry.  I'm sure I can come up with more nit picky things, but I don't want to scare you all off and drive you and myself insane thinking about them.  I hope none of the above possible problems will be too distracting.  Oh, one last thing I forgot.  If I used the name of anyone's characters I apologize, I chose the names I did for specific reasons entirely with no infringement intended (well, the 'family' names at any rate). : )

          That being said, I ask that if you feel you absolutely MUST flame me PLEASE do it constructively and as nicely as possible.  This is my first post ever anywhere, but even more importantly this is personal to me as I received some old news and this is my emotional release for it.  Conventional means of venting have been rather limited, so I thought I'd try this.  It's more of a hodge-podge than I thought it would be, but a/w, I twisted the story to fit into newsies, as this is where I feel most comfortable posting, but I still wanted it basically the same otherwise.  Hence the OOCness and relative disregard for speech patterns and phrases.  In a normal story, should I ever have the discipline and guts to post one, I would definitely be more conscious of those elements than I have been here.  I wanted and needed to finish this and get it out.  Well, I think that's it.  Sorry this was so long, but I felt I should explain a bit.  If you've made it this far thanks and congratulations!  Lol.  And now I promise it's story time, so get reading!

          A cold gray day, and a cold gray marker.   The old adage claiming love is enough to overcome all obstacles running through my head.  I laugh bitterly at the absurdity and irony of it all.  It wasn't even his first attempt.  Not even his second.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

          I vividly remember the morning two years ago I found him.  I had left early for the distribution center that morning and I chanced to see a faint blood trail at the mouth of an alley as I passed.  Normally I would not have investigated further, but a sudden feeling of dread seized me and my feet stepped into the alley of their own free will.  Peering into its depths it appeared, for the most part, the average run of the mill alley.  There were the usual piles of garbage, as well as stacks of crates and boxes.  However, along the left wall from where the shadows began to about halfway down the alleyway everything lay in disarray.  Slivers and slabs of wood from broken crates littered the ground along the wall, as well as shards of glass from broken bottles.  And then there was the blood.  I spied tiny droplets, then small trails, all leading to a pool of the darkening liquid surrounding an unconscious body.  My eyes slowly rested on the figure, recognition finally dawning.

          Petrified, I rushed to the LH, which was thankfully still near by, and sent the first newsie I saw for help.  Settling that, I immediately ran back to where he lay, cut and bloodied.  As though a machine, I looked over his injuries trying to ascertain if there was anything I could do for him.  His arms and face had numerous wounds, some were deep cuts, others merely scratches.  Most of them had stopped bleeding, but I noticed a few of the worst cuts had not, so I tore the bottom of my skirt attempting to control the bleeding while waiting for help to arrive.  I was only mildly successful, and worry began sinking in.  He looked terribly pale, and I feared he had lost too much blood.  It seemed to me all of it had spilled into the ever growing pool surrounding him.  After what seemed an eternity a doctor arrived in a wagon, almost immediately spiriting him off to a hospital, his condition that grave.  

          I made my way quickly back to the LH to find our closest friends Hustler and Speaks to accompany me to the hospital, I knew they would worry and want to be there for him as well.  However, I found the building deserted, so I headed to the distribution center in hopes of catching them before they left for their selling spots.  Luckily they hadn't.  Apparently news of my early morning discovery had spread like a tenement fire in the hot, dry summer, for as soon as I arrived all our friends swarmed around me trying to get answers as to what had happened.  I finally begged off all of their questions, grabbing Hustler and Speaks and took off to the hospital.  After waiting for what seemed a torturously unending length of time, but in reality only totaled two hours, a doctor finally emerged to inform us of his condition.

          "What's going on?  How is he?" I asked.

          "Are you family, miss?" he asked with a hint of rudeness.

          I shook my head in the negative and could see the doctor preparing to brush me off, so before he had the chance to begin speaking I quickly spoke again, "Technically he has no family, but I'm as close as you're going to find.  Please…"

Letting out a slight sigh he explained, "Well, he lost a lot of blood and remains in very serious condition; however he did regain consciousness briefly," he paused.  "Has everything been okay with him?  Any problems as of late?"

          "Well, a few, but nothing terribly serious.  Why do you ask?"  I replied worriedly.

          "In the short amount of time he was conscious, he admitted that several of the wounds he suffered were self-inflicted.  The rest, I would imagine, were the result of falling on debris when he lost consciousness.   Has he ever displayed these tendencies before?"

          "Whoa, wait a minute!  You're saying he tried to kill himself?"  I exclaimed in disbelief, then, almost to myself, continued, "Oh my god.  He wouldn't…. that's not like him."

          "Yes, well…be that as it may.  I'm also assuming that you are his girlfriend, correct?"

          "Yes."  
  


          "I'm sorry to ask this, miss, but I'm afraid I must.  Were the two of you having any problems?"

          "No, not at all.  Everything is fine with us."

          "Alright.  Well, right now he is unconscious but you can go in whenever you're ready, okay?  I'll keep you updated as well," he said a bit awkwardly as he rose and took his leave.

          As the doctor left I began processing, really processing, the information he had given me.  I just couldn't believe he'd done this.  He was the last person I would have thought capable of doing such a thing.  Suicide was certainly not a foreign concept in our world, we had even discussed it a few times in conversation, not about doing it ourselves but in general and about people who had, and he specifically told me during these conversations he could not understand how people could do that to themselves.  Yet here he was.  We spent so much time together and discussed everything that went on in our lives, well practically everything it seems, yet I still had had no indication he felt this desperate.  He had been ready to leave life, his friends, those he considered family, and even me.  We were experiencing no problems.  We hadn't really fought in months.  I knew he loved me and I thought he was happy with me, yet he had obviously been willing to leave me.  I could not understand his actions and it terrified me.  I sat in the waiting area stewing, all these thoughts flying around my mind just building and building.  Under no circumstances could I see him, I was too angry with him.  

Eventually I made the trek to his room, as I approached I could hear Hustler and Speaks in talking with him.  They had been around us since they were seven years old, now they were fifteen, but thought of the two of us as their family.  

          "Blink," I heard one of them say, "Please don't scare us like that again.  We've lost a brother already, we don't want to lose you, too."  I could hear all three of them crying at that, and admittedly it brought tears to my eyes to hear it as well.  Their parents had abandoned them and eventually they ended up at the Manhattan lodging house and entered the newsie lifestyle.  A couple of months after they arrived at the LH they adopted me, and vice versa.  At that time Kid Blink and I were merely friends.  We each belonged to our own little cliques, but ours overlapped a bit.  Blink's inner circle consisted of himself naturally, Racetrack, Mush, and Sticks, Blink's long-time girlfriend.  The four of them were very close and considered themselves their own immediate family.  The same held true in my little band, to which I, my long-time boyfriend Doc, and Hustler and Speaks belonged.  I think that may partially be why our groups became good friends.  I must admit though that I was not that close to Race and Mush, Doc and I were good friends with Sticks and Blink while Hustler and Speaks were friends with Race and Mush.  The girls knew Blink and liked him, but they were much closer to Doc and me.  However, a year or so after Hustler and Speaks arrived at the LH, Doc suddenly and unexpectedly died of pneumonia.  After his death things changed drastically, I began to develop stronger feelings for Blink and, as it turned out, the feelings were mutual.  This however, caused upheaval in Manhattan and after six months of tension I had had enough.  I moved to Staten Island, and Hustler and Speaks decided to follow me.  A year after that Blink left Sticks and Manhattan and moved to Staten with the girls and me, taking up the role of brother to them.  We all four stuck together in the LH, sold our papes, and retained the bond and structure of our self-made family.  And now we all gathered at the hospital while Blink recovered.

          I slowly entered the room, quietly told Hustler and Speaks to head back to the LH for the night before it got too late to do so.  I also asked them to refrain from telling anyone what had really happened until we had discussed what we would or would not reveal.  They left somewhat reluctantly, but obeyed me nonetheless.  I moved over to his bedside to take a look at him.  He glanced at me briefly, and I caught the guilt written painfully clearly on his features before he turned away from me again.

          "White, I'm so sorry, I—," unable to continue he stared down into his hands.

          "Blink, what happened?  Why'd you do this?"

          "I'm tired of being a failure.  I've never succeeded at anything I've done.  I'm tired of it."

          "Honey, that is not true," I tried to reassure him.  Before I could say anything else a nurse entered and informed us I had to leave as visiting hours had ended.  "I'll be back first thing, ok?  You get some rest, we'll talk then, and you know I'll drag everything out of you, right?" I lamely attempted to lighten the mood.  As I reached the door I turned around to say goodnight a final time, but realized he had already fallen asleep.  "I love you," I whispered into the silence.

          I made my way back to the LH, to my great relief it was past lights out and everyone seemed to have fallen asleep, but despite the quiet I found no peace that night.  Various thoughts ran through my head.  I tried to figure out what had driven Blink to this point and I worried whether he would try it again, finally I contemplated ways to help him through this.  As the night wore on all the thoughts vied with each other cluttering my mind, confusing me to the point of exhaustion and eventually forcing me to give up in frustration for the time being.

          As the sky brightened with the rising of the sun, I left the confines of the LH like a shot before our friends gained the opportunity to accost me with their questions, suddenly feeling slightly guilty that the previous evening I had left Hustler and Speaks to the wolves, as it were.  I wandered the streets for several hours lost in thought, waiting until the hospital finally allowed visitors access to the patients.  Again time crept slowly by, but finally visiting hours had begun and I entered the hospital still nervous and unsure of where things were headed.  Upon entering the room I found Blink lying on his side unmoving, staring at the wall.  

          "Hey," moving towards the bed I greeted him quietly, not wanting to startle him.  "Up for some company?"

          He slowly turned to face me a wan smile playing upon his lips.  I sat in the chair next to the bed and reached for his hand.  We sat there for several minutes in semi-companionable silence.  Blink resting his eyes and gathering a bit more strength, I surveying his injuries and the measures the doctors had taken in healing them.  Remembering something I had thought of during the night that might help him, and not wanting the silence to become oppressive, I broached the subject.

          "Do you want me to talk to Race and Mush and have them come?"

          "No," he simply yet firmly replied.  

          "You're sure?  I doubt it would be a problem for Race, and if money's the only thing holding Mush back we have just enough saved for a train ticket for him if need be."  I was surprised that he didn't want them there with him, as they rounded out the remainder of his, our little family and I knew he missed them greatly.  I figured Blink needed all the support and family he could get at that point to recover, and that as family they should be there for him.  They were the only contact that remained between Blink and his old life in Manhattan.  Despite the turmoil of Blink's last two years there, Mush and Race stayed loyal to their familial bonds both to Blink and Sticks, granted they had been strained by the situation but they remained intact all the same.  Both visited occasionally and kept in touch; still, things had changed a bit as although they still considered themselves family each of them had been scattered to the winds.  Blink obviously in Staten, Race had moved to the Bowery and lived there.  He would visit when he could afford to take a little time off work, which was not often.  Mush faced the same financial problems as Race did, that we all do, but in addition to that he also had actually in a fit of adventurousness picked up and moved up to Boston, thereby forcing his visits to become particularly few and far between. "You're sure you don't want them here?"  I tried one last time.

          " No, I'd just have to take care of Mush," he explained.  That being said, I didn't necessarily agree with his decision but I did understand his reasons.  Blink did not have the strength or reserves to be concentrating on someone else so I respected his wishes, but I could not in good conscience leave it at that.  

          "Alright, but you will tell them, won't you?  At some point?" I paused, but received no response either way.  "Honey, they should know."  Slowly he nodded his head in affirmation.  I nodded at my little victory, glad he agreed as I honestly felt they should know.  Like I said they were members of our family.    

          "We should also talk about how we'll deal with this with everyone.  I didn't want to say anything without your ok, but you know they're asking questions.  You need to decide what you want people to know.  And you know we're going to be talking, too," I told him pointedly, noting he was about to say something, and by the looks of him it would have been some form of dodge or diversion, I hurried to reassure him.  "We don't have to do that right now, and really I'm not expecting it.  I know you need to be ready to talk about it and I know you aren't right now, so don't worry.  I'll give you time, but I think you need to figure out what you're going to say to everyone else in the next couple of days, ok?  I'd like to know how to answer questions, and if I don't know you'll definitely need it when you come home.  Take your pick." I finished wryly.  

"Well, I already know how I want to deal with that.  I'd rather not tell anyone," he began with just a trace of humor, the first I had heard from him in several days.

"Blink," I nearly whined in disapproval.

"Seriously, I can't tell you how stupid I feel for doing this, I don't want everyone else to know.  But, besides family I suppose I should tell Paddy and Batter since they watch over and take care of everyone.  If possible that's as far as I want it to go.  I'm not really that close to anyone here but you and the girls, so I don't really think they need to know."

"Alright, if that's how you want to do it I have no problems with that, and for what it's worth I think you're right to tell Paddy and Batter.  I think they should know," I reassured him.  Truthfully I was relieved someone outside family would know in case it happened again and none of us were around, and if anyone who better than the keeper of our LH and the leader of our little band of newsies?  

Hesitantly Blink broke the lull in our conversation.  "Can we talk about the rest some other time?'

"Sure, I said I'd give you some time and I meant it."  After that we dropped all previous topics and just talked about any and all of the things we discussed everyday, attempting to regain a feeling of normalcy, if only for a little while.  I stayed through early afternoon and then took my leave to go sell the evening edition, as I still needed money for board and food if I could manage it.  

 The doctor released Blink four days later.  He eased back into newsie life, for the first week selling the morning edition with me then returning to the LH for the rest of the day after lunch, much to my relief under the watchful eye of Fitzpatrick, or Paddy as we all called him.  By the second week he had returned to his previous strength and routine, mentioning nothing more about his attempt in what I assumed was a need to get back into his normal life, but normalcy is a largely relative thing.  One night a month or so after he was released I could not find Blink when I returned to the LH for the night.  I searched the building, finally finding him on the roof legs tucked up under his chin, eyes glazed and staring blankly into space.  I hurried over to him, his demeanor setting off warning signals in my mind.  

"Hey, you alright?" I began.  "What's going on?"

A bit sluggishly he brought his attention to me.  "Mmm?  Nothing much.  Just thinking, it was a rough day."

"Really?  What happened?"

"Nothing really happened, I just had some trouble selling.  I just felt like thinking and being alone."

 Panic filled my mind, clouding all judgment and tact as I bluntly questioned, "Were you planning on hurting yourself again?"

"No," he hurriedly attempted to reassure me, but as it was so rushed I remained uncertain.  A feeling he validated as he thought for a second and continued, "I don't know, maybe."

"Why?" I pleaded, finally at my breaking point with him.  "What's going on with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he dodged.

"That's not good enough anymore, Blink.  I've tried to be patient with you, to be understanding, but I can't do it anymore.  I'm worried, about the both of us.  You tried to kill yourself for Christ sakes!  You were ready to leave me! I mean is there anything I did?  Are you upset with me?  You refuse to talk to me.  Hell, I'm scared to leave you alone at all and the way you looked when I came up here makes me think you're to the point you'll try to kill yourself again.  I want to help, but honestly I don't know what the hell to do.  I don't want to cause you any more stress or anything by forcing you to rehash and dwell on your problems, but on the other hand I think maybe it would help to talk about it and work it out.  I just don't know anymore!  What am I supposed to do, huh?  You tell me."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm such a burden to you.  Maybe you should just leave and forget about me."  He snarled back, angered and a bit injured.

"No," I sighed.  "Blink, that's not what I meant and you know it.  I'm just confused and very frightened.  I just want to understand."  I searched his eyes finally catching and holding his gaze to drive my point home.  "Is that really so much for me to ask?"

"No, I guess not," he whispered, then gave me a small smirk.  "Not for you anyway."

I laughed in spite of myself at that.  He always was a smartass.  But unwilling to let him divert the conversation away from the subject at hand I gently continued on, "So, what's going on?  When I first talked to you in the hospital you said you felt like a failure, failure for what?"

"Everything, I mean I'm not a great seller.  Sure I get by, but not by much, I barely have a relationship with Race and Mush anymore, and I'm always going off without either thinking or realizing what I'm doing…"

"Ah," I murmured, something clicking in my head.  "Is this about your fight with Spot?"  A week before I found him in the alley a group of the guys from the LH had gone out into the city for a night on the town, and unsurprisingly gotten a bit drunk.  As they were slowly returning home in the wee hours of the morning, Blink caught a young boy pickpocketing him and, in a nutshell, beat the kid to within an inch of his life.  The next evening Spot had come crashing into the LH searching for Blink.  It turns out the kid was one of Spot's crew.  To make matters worse the kid was one of Spot's runners he used to correspond with the leader of Queens in an ongoing attempt to keep the tenuous relations between the boroughs at an uneasy truce.  He was to deliver a message that very morning but had gotten sidetracked; it had been early yet and he was suddenly confronted with the prospect of 'earning' some quick money.  Naturally the kid couldn't resist.  Spot had had to try to smooth things over with the Queens leader himself.  It had not gone well.  It cost him face in addition to simply irritating him.  While he could not object to Blink's reaction without being hypocritical, it was still an affront on Brooklyn and his position as leader demanded response.  Add to that the fact Blink's actions had come very close to dismantling all the work Spot had done to keep relations with Queens from devolving into all out war.  Well, needless to say Spot was irate and really tore into Blink.

"Yes," he replied hesitantly.  "And no."

"We talked about that.  I mean, I know it upset you, hell it'd upset anyone to have Spot screaming at them, but I didn't think it upset you badly enough to make you want to die."

Blink let out a bitter laugh, "That wasn't it, that was just the breaking point.  I'd been feeling like that for a while.  I even tried to do it once before."

I gaped at him, shocked, "What?  You did?  When?"

"Oh, about four months ago.  Remember when you came home early and found me in the washroom picking up the mirror I'd broken?"

"Yeah, you told me you'd dropped it on accident.  You didn't, did you?  You were going to use the…" I trailed off, realization settling in my mind.  "But I came home before you could do it."

He merely nodded in response.  "Why?"

"Same reasons I said before, I felt like a failure.  But after that I started feeling better and forgot, well not really forgot, but I didn't feel like doing it anymore so I just didn't say anything.  I felt fine.  But then that argument with Spot happened and all those feelings and his voi--, it all came back so I woke up early and did it when no one was likely to interrupt me."

I nodded, processing all he told me, suddenly catching on to something he seemingly didn't want to say.  "You started to say 'his voi--.'  Did you mean voice?  Who's?  Spot's voice?"

"Umm, yeah," he replied, discomfort clearly expressed in his voice and on his features.  

"Mmm hmm.  Yeah.  I'm not buying, so spill." I returned, resorting to good-humored sarcasm in hopes of lightening the mood to comfort him a bit.

"No," he began.  "It's stupid, really."  I favored him with a disapproving look, telling him he would not get out of it.  "My dad.  It was my dad's voice."

"What's so stupid about that?  Not everyone has a happy home life, we all know that."

"I know that!" he exclaimed rather harshly, immediately calming.  "It's just, I don't know.  My parents both died of illness when I was twelve and then I found the newsies.  Before that I lived with them, had a home, clothes, food.  Neither of them drank, and neither of them beat me other than the occasional spanking for something particularly wrong.  Nothing I wouldn't say I didn't deserve, but even so…" he paused.  I watched him intently, and gently prodded him to continue.  "He was gone quite a bit, but when he was home I had to be quiet and not disturb him.  If I showed emotion he'd yell at me for being a baby, to suck it up and be a man.  He was always telling me that.  Nothing I did was ever good enough.  None of my decisions were good enough, and so he felt he had to make them all for me, he'd never lend a helping hand when I needed it.  I had to make my own way.  That's about it, that's what happened.  It's stupid, isn't it?"  While what he described had to have been bad to live through, I knew I was only getting a partial glimpse into what his early childhood had been like.  I probably would never understand completely.  As these thoughts had gone through my head he had continued.  "I think so, I mean no physical abuse, torture, or tragic loss.  With all the horror stories we've heard from all the newsies we know, I just feel stupid and weak for letting something so common and simple rule me like that."

"Honey, that's not you, that's your dad talking.  And no you may not have been beaten, thankfully, but your feeling like that does not make you weak.  And those of us who've led those tragic stories, yes the events were horrible themselves, but you know as well as I do that it's the memories and emotions that come from them that make it more horrible by haunting us longer and effecting how we deal with situations and other people.  Really, that's exactly what seems to be happening with you.  It's no different."  I hoped I'd gotten through to him, but I could not be sure.  At the same time I needed some reassurance for myself.  

"So was that it?  Was there anything I did, even slightly?"

"No," Blink quickly answered.  "Oh, no honey.  It had nothing to do with you.  I've never been happier than the last couple years with you."

"But then why did you do this?  Didn't you think about the girls and me?  What about Race and Mush, did you think what this would do to them?"  I asked out of curiosity rather than accusation.

"No," he whispered, a chagrinned expression crossing his face as he realized what he had said.  "I didn't think about you guys at all.  It was like tunnel vision, it just got to the point all I could hear or think about was my dad's voice in my head and how I couldn't do anything right.  That was it.  I couldn't take it, so I decided…" he trailed off, both of us knowing the rest.

Unsure of what to say or do, I nodded and we each drifted into our own thoughts, mulling over all that had been said.  After some time we accidentally caught each other's eye, each giving the other a small smile.  

          "Hey, next time think of us, ok?"  I told him with a laugh.  "Seriously, though Blink, I don't know what I'd do without you."

          "Don't worry, it won't happen again," he returned seriously.  Having gone through an attempt and surviving, and knowing him I really didn't think he would, but after having reached that point and taken action the illusion is shattered and you can never say never again after that.  I must have had a questionable look on my face, because he became even more serious.  "White, I promise."

          I could only whisper sadly, "Don't make me a promise you may not be able to keep."

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

          Slowly, Blink and I had gotten on with our lives, Mush and then Race had been told, everything returning pretty much to normal.  He did well and I was so proud of him for it.  I still am to this day.  But Fate, Destiny, God, or whatever you want to place your faith in had other plans; for as a small part of me had always feared, he broke the biggest, most serious promise he ever made me.

          Leaving me to stand here on this cold gray day, staring at a cold gray marker.  The old adage claiming love is enough to overcome all obstacles running through my head.  I rage bitterly at the absurdity and irony of it all.  Obviously whoever said that had no fucking clue.


End file.
